On the first Thursday of December, the unofficial kick-off to the holiday season takes place in Baltimore, Maryland. This year, on December 4, was the 54th year of the celebration. The 178-foot-tall George Washington Monument, the construction of which started on July 4, 1815, and was completed in 1829, is graced with lights and fireworks that light up the city sky about the figure of Washington.
On both sides of the Washington Monument stand two equestrian statues grace the grounds. One is of a local American Revolutionary War hero, John Eager Howard, born in Baltimore County in 1752. On the other side is honorary American, the Honorable Marquis de Lafayette.
If you peer to the left of the Howard equestrian statue photo, you see the spire of a Victorian Gothic church. Built in 1872, the church stands on the location of the Howard residence. On January 11, 1843, Francis Scott Key died there, at the age of 63.
If you celebrate, Emerging Revolutionary War hopes your holiday season kicks off grandly as well. If I may, if looking for a gift for that history enthusiast, check out the Emerging Revolutionary War storehere. Or the Emerging Revolutionary War Series, here.
Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Ben Powers
Introduction
Nathaniel Greene is renowned for leading the Southern Department during the American Revolution, achieving significant strategic results against Lords Cornwallis and Rawdon, even though he lost several battles. Historian Theodore Thayer called him “the strategist of the American Revolution.”[1] Greene carefully planned his army’s movements to maximize maneuverability, chose to fight in situations with roughly equal numbers, strengthened support from auxiliary and irregular forces, and put the British in increasingly worse positions. His main goal was to keep his army active—success meant staying in the field and avoiding severe losses. This led Cornwallis to make decisions that resulted in his defeat at Yorktown, Virginia, in October 1781. Greene’s careful coordination of military actions to achieve strategic results hinted at what would later be called “operational art,” a concept later connected to leaders like Napoleon Bonaparte and Soviet theorists.[2] Greene’s skills showed the main elements of operational art, making him more than a strategist—he was an early example of an operational artist.
Some Definitions
The “operational level of war” is a twentieth-century concept describing military activities between the tactical level (winning battles) and the strategic level (achieving national aims through armed force and other instruments of power). In current doctrine, tactics involve sequencing forces in time and space to accomplish missions like seizing terrain. Strategy is how national leaders and senior commanders use available means to achieve defined ends. The operational level connects these two, as theater commanders sequence campaigns to achieve strategic objectives, a concept relevant for analyzing Greene’s approach.
We’re excited to share one of the 2026 new releases in the Emerging Revolutionary War Series. Published by Savas Beatie, a sneak peek, including the cover, is below.
About the Book:
“I wish we could sell them another hill at the same price we did Bunkers Hill,” Nathanael Greene wrote to the governor of Rhode Island after the battle of June 17, 1775.
Actually fought on Breed’s Hill outside Boston, Massachusetts, the battle of Bunker Hill proved a pyrrhic victory for British forces. Confident in their ability to overwhelm the New England militia that opposed them, long lines of neatly uniformed British infantry and marines swept uphill toward a quickly built earthen redoubt defended by a motely collection of farmers, shopkeepers, and tradesmen.
“Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes!” the colonials urged each other—or did they?
By the end of the fight, the British gained the summit and Colonial forces scattered. One of the patriot leaders, Dr. Joseph Warren, lay dead—one of the first martyrs of the American Revolution. But for the British, the scene was far, far worse: it would be the greatest number of casualties they would ever suffer in any battle of the American Revolution. As British General Henry Clinton commented afterward, “A few more such victories would have surely put an end to British dominion in America.”
The siege of Boston would continue, but the sobering lesson of Bunker Hill changed British strategy—as did the arrival soon thereafter of a new commander-in-chief of Continental forces: General George Washington.
In A Dear-Bought Victory, historians Daniel T. Davis and Phillip S. Greenwalt separate the facts from the myths as they take readers to the slopes of Breed’s Hill and along the Boston siege lines as they explore a battle that continues to hold a place in popular memory unlike few others.
About the Authors:
Daniel T. Davis is the Senior Education Manager at the American Battlefield Trust. He is a graduate of Longwood University with a bachelor’s degree in public history. Dan has worked as a Ranger/Historian at Appomattox Court House National Historical Park and Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania National Military Park. He is the author or co-author of numerous books on the American Civil War. This is his first co-authored book in the Emerging Revolutionary War Series. Dan is a native of Fredericksburg, Virginia.
Phillip S. Greenwalt is the co-founder of Emerging Revolutionary War and a full-time contributor to Emerging Civil War. He is a graduate of Wheeling Jesuit University with a bachelor’s degree in history along with graduate degrees in American History and International Studies and Leadership from George Mason University and Arizona State University, respectively. He is the author of co-author of seven books on the American Revolutionary and Civil Wars. Phill has worked for the National Park Service for the last 17 years at numerous natural and cultural sites. He is a native of Baltimore, Maryland.
The Commission of Captain Samuel Nicholas, the first American Marine. (USMC)
Today marks the 250th birthday of the Marine Corps. November 10, 1775 was a milestone in the creation of American naval power, but the birthday story is a little more complicated.
The Continental Congress resolved to create a navy under its auspices on October 13, 1775, but much work remained to build American naval power to a point where it might serve a strategic purpose. Individual colonies had already begun creating naval forces and George Washington had leased ships under the army’s authority. Thus, the resolution served as more of milestone on a long road, rather than a fresh beginning.
On October 30, the Continental Congress considered the reports of its naval committee and confirmed recommendations for two vessels of 14 and 10 guns. Moreover, it resolved to add two more ships to its burgeoning navy, one of 20 guns and one carrying up to 36 guns. It also added four new members to the naval committee, bringing it to a total of seven. Stephen Hopkins (RI), Joseph Hewes (NC), Richard Henry Lee (VA), and John Adams (MA) joined John Langdon (NH), Silas Deane (CT), and Christopher Gadsden (SC).[1] On November 2, Congress gave the naval committee authority to call on the treasury for up to $100,000 to acquire a navy and delegated to the committee the authority to recruit officers and seamen, offering them prize money in the amount of one-half the value of all warships and one-third the value of transports made prizes.[2] It also took up a petition from a Committee of Safety in Passamaquoddy, Nova Scotia to join the association represented by the Continental Congress. Naturally, Congress appointed a committee—Silas Deane, John Jay, Stephen Hopkins, John Langdon, and John Adams to consider the matter. The naval expansion and Passamaquoddy petition sparked a new round of thinking about American naval power.
In November 1775, as the American colonies were deep in rebellion against Britain, General George Washington faced not only the British army but also the task of shaping a new American identity. One revealing moment came on November 5, 1775, when Washington, then commander-in-chief of the Continental Army, issued an order forbidding his soldiers from celebrating Guy Fawkes Day, also known as Pope’s Day in colonial New England. This event—often overlooked in histories of the Revolution—offers insight into Washington’s leadership, his moral sensibilities, and his vision for the cause of American independence.
Guy Fawkes Night at Windsor Castle, 1775
Guy Fawkes Day had long been an English and colonial holiday commemorating the failed Gunpowder Plot of 1605, when Catholic conspirator Guy Fawkes attempted to blow up Parliament and assassinate King James I. In Protestant England and its colonies, November 5 became a day of noisy anti-Catholic demonstrations, bonfires, and the burning of effigies of the Pope and Fawkes. In Boston and other colonial towns, rival street gangs—often from the North and South Ends—would parade effigies, fight, and engage in destructive celebrations. It was, in short, a day of raucous Protestant triumphalism and sectarian hatred.
By 1775, however, the American Revolution had changed the stakes. The Continental Army, drawn from thirteen diverse colonies, was fighting not merely as British subjects in revolt but as Americans united against tyranny. Washington recognized that this unity could not rest on religious prejudice. Moreover, the colonies were seeking crucial support from Catholic France and from Catholic Canadians in Quebec. Anti-Catholic displays risked alienating potential allies. Thus, on November 5, 1775, Washington issued a General Order that firmly condemned the planned festivities.
John Fitzgerald, an Irish Catholic immigrated to Alexandria in 1773. He became good friends with Washington and like many other Catholics, provided great service to Washington. For a time he served as an aide-de-camp to Washington.
Washington’s order read, in part, that “at such a juncture, and in such circumstances, to be insulting their religion is so monstrous, as not to be suffered or excused.” He called on his troops to remember that “we are contending for the rights of mankind” and that the cause required dignity and respect for all faiths. The general’s tone combined moral rebuke with strategic foresight. By discouraging Pope’s Day, he sought to replace narrow sectarian loyalties with a broader, inclusive patriotism.
This moment also reflects Washington’s character and leadership style. He understood the importance of discipline and order in an army composed largely of volunteers. The elimination of destructive, drunken celebrations helped reinforce his insistence on professionalism. But more importantly, Washington saw the American cause as grounded in universal principles of liberty and justice—principles incompatible with the kind of bigotry Pope’s Day embodied.
In retrospect, Washington’s handling of Guy Fawkes Day in 1775 stands as an early statement of religious tolerance in American political life. His decision to forbid anti-Catholic celebrations prefigured later American commitments to freedom of conscience and the separation of church and state. What might have seemed a minor disciplinary order was, in fact, a symbolic act of leadership: it transformed an old English custom of division into an American lesson in unity. Through it, Washington began to shape not just an army, but a nation.
Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Michael Aubrecht
As someone who enjoys the occasional cocktail I am admittedly curious as to the rumored excessive-drinking habits of our Founding Fathers.
After conducting a casual examination, I think it would be fair to say that their wealth, power, and the period in which they lived in made alcohol a mainstay in their daily lives. Most of these gentlemen were the political playboys of their day and we already know that many of them had a penchant for wine, women and song. Today most people assume that the common table wine was the preferred beverage of colonial times and that most folks simply enjoyed it as a compliment to meals.
According to research conducted by Stanton Peele, the Founders had a much broader palette when it came to engaging in the Spirit of ‘76. Simply put, these boys liked to party:
How do we know the Founding Fathers as a group drank a lot? Well, for one thing, we have records of their imbibing. In 1787, two days before they signed off on the Constitution, the 55 delegates to the Constitutional Convention partied at a tavern.
According to the bill preserved from the evening, they drank 54 bottles of Madeira, 60 bottles of claret, eight of whiskey, 22 of porter, eight of hard cider, 12 of beer and seven bowls of alcoholic punch. That’s more than two bottles of fruit of the vine, plus a few shots and a lot of punch and beer, for every delegate. Clearly, that’s humanly impossible.
Fort Mercer. Fort Mifflin. The Whitemarsh Campaign. Names of battles and maneuvers that “receive but scant attention in the literature of the American Revolution.” Until now. Award-winning author and historian Michael C. Harris returns to Emerging Revolutionary War to discuss his latest book.
Finishing the trilogy, started with Brandywine, continued with Germantown, and now Fighting for Philadelphia. Just released by Savas Beatie this month!
Enjoy this pre-recorded “Rev War Revelry” and get a synopsis of why this book is needed on your bookshelf. Join Emerging Revolutionary War Sunday at 7 p.m. EDT.
On August 2, 1775, the Second Continental Congress wrapped up its summer session 250 years ago. Philadelphia’s heatwave that summer—described as “Very Close & Hot”—was too much for the delegates. “We have sat much longer than expected,” one Congressman grumbled. “We are all exhausted.”
The Congress had been working tirelessly since its session began on May 10, 1775. In just 12 weeks, the body accomplished an impressive list of tasks, many of which escalated the growing tension with Great Britain:
Declared a state of military readiness across the colonies
Appealed to Canadians for support in the Revolution
Raised companies of riflemen in Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia to reinforce the Boston Army
Elected George Washington as Commander-in-Chief
Appointed four major generals and eight brigadier generals
Adopted the Olive Branch Petition in a final effort for peace
Released the “Declaration of the Causes and Necessities of Taking Up Arms”
Rejected Lord North’s Plan for Reconciliation
Established a postal department
Appointed commissioners to negotiate peace with Indian tribes
Rather than resting from the sessions of the last 12 weeks, many members of the Second Continental Congress continued to work tirelessly to support the colonies’ efforts against Great Britain. Many returned home to ensure these measures were implemented at the local level. But there was still uncertainty about how King George III would respond to the Olive Branch Petition. Would the King accept the offer of peace? Only time would tell.
Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back Jeffrey Collin Wilford Part I, click here. Part II, click here.
Major Andre’s Reckoning
Along the way from Tarrytown, New York, to West Point, Benjamin Tallmadge conversed almost nonstop with the freshly captured British prisoner John André and learned much about the youthful officer. It was perhaps Major Tallmadge’s background as George Washington’s chief intelligence officer as well as recollections illuminated by the light of André’s charisma, that helped begin to paint a picture of an honorable soldier. After countless hours of conversation during their journey north he became convinced that André’s “Head was in fault, & not his heart.” Tallmadge commented later that André was “a most delectable Companion. It often drew tears from my Eyes to find him so pleasant & agreeable in Conversation on different Subjects, when I reflected on his future fate, & that too, as I believed, so near at hand—” In the short time the two spent together Tallmadge seemed to have grown extremely fond of the British Major.
One can sympathize with Tallmadge’s point of view. After all, André was merely another victim of the traitor Arnold. He had intended to meet him on board the Vulture but when Arnold failed to show he was forced to go ashore with Smith. After the Vulture was scared off by artillery and Arnold convinced him to don civilian clothes, plying him with incriminating materials and sending him through enemy territory, the stage was set. In his testimony, he said it was General “Clinton’s directions not to go within an Enemy post or to quit my own dress.“ Even so, by his own admission, it was the ruling of the military Proceedings that “he changed his Dress within our Lines and under a feigned Name and in a Disguished [sic].”
Perhaps Tallmadge’s sympathies toward André were accentuated by his hatred for Arnold. Tallmadge’s characterization of André becomes clearer in a simple personal act from his testimony when he stated that “André kept reviewing his shabby Dress, & finally remarked to me that he was positively ashamed to go to the Head Qrs of the American Army in such a plight. I called my Servant, & directed him to bring my Dragoon Cloak, which I presented to André. This he refused to take for some time, but I insisted on it, & he finally put it on & rode in it to Tappan.”
By the time they made Tappan, André was under heavy guard and imprisoned at Mabie’s Tavern. Just a few hundred feet away, Washington convened 14 of his top military officers who, over two days of testimony, found André guilty and sentenced him to death. On October 1st André personally requested from Washington the honor of a firing squad over a “gibbet.” Knowing the favor could not be granted, Washington opted to ignore the request.
On October 2nd, just before noon, André appeared on the stoop of Mabie’s Tavern. Four officers were present to escort the convicted spy to his final judgment. One of the four officers was Captain Lieutenant John Van Dyk, with just six months separating this moment from his own capture by the British off the coast of New Jersey. “There were about six steps which led into the stoop of the house, on the light of these, one American officer with myself were standing when Major André came out of the front door of the house in regimentals, hooking his arm with the two American officers (his attendants) one on his right and left. He ran down the steps of the stoop as quickly and lively as though no execution was to take place, and immediately fell into the centre of the guard, a place assigned him.”
André exits Mabie’s Tavern on the day of execution. (copyright: New York Public Library)
Escorting André with his four guards was also Major Benjamin Tallmadge. “I walked with him to the place of execution, and parted with him under the gallows, entirely overwhelmed with Grief, that so gallant an officer, & so accomplished a Gentleman should come to such an ignominious End.” Echoing that sentiment in writing nine days after his execution was Alexander Hamilton, saying “Never perhaps did any man suffer death with more justice, or deserve it less.”
Mabie’s Tavern today (Wilford)
When André had turned the corner to see the gallows before him, Van Dyk recorded his statement. “Gentlemen, I am disappointed, I expected my request…would have been granted.” According to Van Dyk, preparations were made and André’s final words when asked if he had any were “I have nothing more to say, gentlemen, but this, you all bear me witness, that I meet my fate as a brave man.” With that came the untimely end of Major John André who was then cut down and not allowed to fall to the ground and “every attention and respect was paid to Major André that it is possible to pay a man in his situation.” He was placed in a simple coffin and buried in a shallow grave close to the site. Over the following 40 years, a peach tree grew above the grave, ostensibly from a peach given to André by a woman as he marched to his execution.
When the Duke of York requested the return of his remains in 1821 it was not without fear of a backlash, specifically from the residents of Tappan. Many felt it was an affront to the memory of George Washington. British consul James Buchanan found that the protestations dissipated quickly after he agreed to buy those who were against the idea a drink at the local inn. The bones were then dug up with the root of the peach growing through the skull’s eye socket. They were placed in a mahogany ossuary and shipped by way of a British mail ship called a packet to New York City where they awaited their return to London.
Captain, now Colonel, John Van Dyk, 67 years old and working for the New York Customs House near the docks of the North (Hudson) River heard about the impending exhumation and, using his connections with influential New Yorker John Pintard, requested a dialog with Buchanan. Through the British consul, he obtained a penned introduction to the captain of the packet where André’s bones lay. Van Dyk made his way to the North River and found the captain just leaving to go back aboard the packet. Upon handing him the introduction from Buchanan, the captain requested that he return at 10 o’clock the following morning and a barge would be waiting to take him to the ship.
Coincidentally, that same day Dr. Valentine Mott, considered by many to be the greatest surgeon of his time, was treating one of Van Dyk’s children and heard of Van Dyk’s plan. Naturally, he was invited along for the next morning’s visit. That day, the two reached the docks just before 10 o’clock and met the barge which took them to the ship. “We went together on board the Packet. The bones were in a superb urn, and we were permitted to handle them. I mentioned the circumstances, as I have related them above, to the Captain [about André’s execution] — bid him goodbye, and we came on shore.” Van Dyk’s motivations for wanting to visit the remains of André are lost to history and probably best understood by those who experienced the emotions of that fateful day in American history.
Amidst a boat of mail destined for England, John André left New York for the last time, traveling back to London where his remains were repatriated. His ossuary was emptied of its contents and his remains were buried in Westminster Abbey with the inscription “universally beloved and esteemed by the Army in which he served, and lamented even by his foes, now lay alongside medieval kings, Renaissance statesmen, and Georgian poets.” Arnold and his wife Peggy lived the rest of their lives post-Revolution in London, reviled by most, and are buried just 3 miles away at St. Mary’s Church in Battersea, in a vault that sits behind a wall in a basement kindergarten classroom.
[Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series, vol. 28, 28 August–27 October 1780, edited by William M. Ferraro and Jeffrey L. Zvengrowski, 291–296. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2020.]
[Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series, vol. 28, 28 August–27 October 1780, edited by William M. Ferraro and Jeffrey L. Zvengrowski, 277–283. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2020.]
[Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series, vol. 22, 1 August–21 October 1779, edited by Benjamin L. Huggins, 745–746. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2013.]
[Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series, vol. 28, 28 August–27 October 1780, edited by William M. Ferraro and Jeffrey L. Zvengrowski, 303–311. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2020.]
Van Dyk, John. “Major André, Letter of Col. Van Dyk to John Pintard, August 27, 1821.” Historical Magazine 7, no. 8 (August 1863): 250-252.
Van Dyk, John. “Major André.” Martinsburg Gazette, August 20, 1835.
On July 3, 1775 George Washington formally took command of the Continental Army in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Appointed Commander-in-Chief by the Second Continental Congress on June 15, 1775, Washington arrived in Cambridge on July 3, 1775 and assumed command of a disorganized and poorly supplied force besieging British troops in Boston. His leadership would begin the transformation of colonial militias into a unified fighting force capable of challenging British military power.
Washington’s assumption of command occurred at a time when the American colonies were transitioning from protest to open rebellion. The battles of Lexington and Concord in April 1775 had already ignited armed conflict, and the Battle of Bunker Hill in June had demonstrated that colonial forces could stand up to British regulars, though at great cost. Washington understood the gravity of his new role. In a letter to the President of Congress, he wrote humbly, “I am truly sensible of the high Honor done me in this Appointment… I do not think myself equal to the Command I am honored with.” This characteristic modesty was paired with a strong sense of duty and resolve.
Washington assumes command at Cambridge, Courtesy Library of Congress
On July 3, Washington appeared before his troops on Cambridge Common, dressed in a blue coat with buff facings, signifying his Virginian roots. There is no official transcript of a speech he may have delivered that day, but contemporary accounts describe a solemn and determined atmosphere. One observer, Reverend William Emerson, noted in his diary, “General Washington… is a tall and noble-looking man, commanding the respect of all who see him.”
Washington immediately set to work imposing discipline, organizing supply chains, and creating a chain of command. Though former commander of the army, Major General Artemus Ward, worked hard on instilling discipline, he was not a man that instilled a lot of confidence. Washington was appalled by the state of the army, writing in frustration to Congress: “The Army… is in a very improper condition to carry on a vigorous War.” He introduced regular drills, uniform codes, and standardized procedures, striving to turn the disparate bands of militiamen into a functioning army. As historian David McCullough noted, “It was Washington’s presence alone that gave the army cohesion.”
Despite his military inexperience—Washington never commanded an army of this size—he brought a unifying vision and moral authority. His appointment was also politically astute, bridging the regional divide between New England and the southern colonies. A Virginian leading New England troops sent a clear message of unity in the face of British oppression.
Marker commemorating Washington on the Cambridge Common, photo by William Griffith
The Cambridge encampment remained Washington’s headquarters until March 1776, when he successfully forced the British evacuation of Boston by fortifying Dorchester Heights with cannons brought from Fort Ticonderoga. This early strategic victory, achieved without major bloodshed, was a major morale boost and affirmed Congress’s faith in their commander.
In retrospect, July 3, 1775, was the beginning of an enduring legacy of leadership and a love of Washington by his men and officers. Through discipline, vision, and personal integrity, he began shaping a ragtag collection of volunteers into the Continental Army, laying the groundwork for American independence.
Emerging Revolutionary War Era 